


so hungry

by PineconeTheKitten



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - STARVED, Body Horror, Extra Mouths, Frisk (Undertale) is a Monster, Gen, Gender-Neutral Frisk (Undertale), Genderless Frisk, Human Consumption, Mute Frisk (Undertale), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Starvation, Teenage Frisk (Undertale), basically horrortale and underfell in one, but more horrifying, just so you know this is gonna be a ride, soul eating, the name of this au is STARVED
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29697333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PineconeTheKitten/pseuds/PineconeTheKitten
Summary: Long ago, two races lived on Earth:HUMANSandMONSTERS.Monsters were worshipped as gods among the Humans, and sacrifices were made to appease them.Soon, though, Humans grew wary of their gods and stopped the flow of food for them. Starving, the Monsters attacked.The war was brutal. Monsters and Humans alike were killed before Humans finally defeated the King, seven of the greatest mages surrounding him.The King bowed his head to die like his brethren, but the Humans spared him and sealed him and his kind in the Subsurface.The Monsters were angered. Humans treated them like they treated their King, and the Humans decided to throw them away? Their best chance at survival?As fury swam through the Subsurface, the King addressed his people. "My brethren," he roared. "We shall return to the Aboveground soon enough! But for now, we must wait. Wait for humans to come to us. They sacrificed seven of their own to create the Gate, so we must get seven humans to break it! When that happens, we shall get our revenge!"
Relationships: Frisk & Frisk's Mother (Undertale), Other Relationship Tags to Be Added





	so hungry

The day Frisk was born was the day the winds howled and the mountains shook as a new mother screamed in pain, pushing out a baby that was silent. Her face was stained with tears as she looked on as the doctors grabbed her child, her light, shouting at each other that something was wrong. _What's wrong?_ she wanted to ask, reaching limply for her child as they took her light away. _What's wrong with my baby? Give me my baby! I don't care what's wrong with my light, just bring my baby back!_

The new mother opened her mouth and cried, a newborn's voice never joining her's.

Her baby was strange, they told her. Her light didn't have any sort of indicator for gender, they told her, just blank and smooth and soft skin stretching over the pelvis. She didn't care. She would love her baby no matter what gender, even if it didn't have one. Her light didn't have a mouth, they told her, just buttery flesh covering bone, no sort of jaw, just a plate, they told her. She didn't care. She told them to attach a feeding tube through her baby's belly button. Her light didn't have a belly button, they told her, just little ridges in a zigzag pattern. She didn't care. She was worried, yes, but it disappeared when they told her that her baby would have to be fed through an I.V. in it's arm.

She cared for none of this as she wept and held her light.

They couldn't feed her baby. The doctors said her light had a horrible reaction to the I.V. and was writhing and breaking out in hives. They said if it could cry, it would have. She instead cried as she held her child, begging the doctors to do something. They said they couldn't. It was a mystery how her light had survived without an umbilical cord, but because it seemed healthy, they weren't worried. They were now. They said that the only thing they could do was kill the baby, relieving it of it's suffering. She screamed and shouted at them to leave.

No one was going to touch her baby again.

She left the hospital the next day. Her baby was wrapped up, a cute little yellow polka-dot hat on it's tiny head. She remembers that there are different pronouns besides she/her and he/him. She decides to use they/them for her baby. It fits, and she kisses their nose. They sneeze slightly, blinking their coal-black eyes in surprise. She giggles and starts to bounce her arms, ignoring the bone-deep ache that never seems to leave when she holds her child. She loves her baby, her light, her _Frisk._

Never is her child going to be alone again.

Sign is surprisingly easy, she finds as she teaches it to her child, who clumsily and happily copies the different and slow motions her hands make without any understanding of what they mean. The meanings come slowly, and soon Frisk can create disjointed sentences of what they want. Their mother is delighted every time they pull her shirt to get her attention before telling some story about a bug that was swirling through the air. She laughs every time something new crosses their mind, and she continues to teach them different gestures.

Ignoring the weariness that floods her at all times of the day is getting harder.

The doctor isn't nice, she finds out, questioning over and over again why her child doesn't have a mouth. She shrugs in response every time, and eventually, he gets tired and lifts up Frisk's shirt to check their heart, leaping back in fear before shouting at her why there was a mouth. She doesn't know, and she tells him, ignoring the way his face flushes red and he hits her across the cheek. He screams at her that her Frisk, her light is a Monster, a creature that should be burned in the deepest pits of hell. He doesn't finish what he says next because then he's vomiting blood, eyes wide.

She ignores the sound of her child eating the doctor for insulting her before going home and washing her child off, crying all the while.

Her cheeks are sunken and her eyes are hollow, filled with things that no mortal should see, but she still cuddles her child, shaking as the energy is leached from her body. Frisk is older now, almost a teenager, but they remain small, their form slight. Their angular and animal-like eyes are still black, but now they swirl with nightmares, and she can't even look there without getting a bloody nose.

Eventually, her eyes start to bleed because she refuses to ignore her child, her ears following soon after.

Frisk is hungry as she slumps in front of her child, bowing her head. Her light is crying, but she grabs their hand and kisses it, smiling against the blood pouring out of her mouth. It stains her senses, filling her nostrils with the scent of metal and decay. Her stomach is ripped open, mold growing from it, and she begs her child to kill her. Frisk opens their mouth and their tongue flashes out, long and thin and shaped like a pick, balancing precariously over her face before it plunges in, severing the connection between her brain and the rest of her body.

Death is the release she didn't know she had been waiting for, and she weeps as a spirit as her body is free from the disease that ate her insides apart.

* * *

Frisk is hungry, so _so_ hungry. Mother hadn't sated the hunger of years piled upon their stomach, though, which roils and lurches as they shove fistful after fistful of bloody, stinking, _delicious_ meat into their maw. The mold made it sweeter, taking on a hint of something similar to the old stray cat they found outside. It was beyond good, being able to eat _Human_ meat again after so long.

The best part, though, was the soul that floated up after a few seconds. With inhuman speeds, they grabbed it in their hand, feeling it attempt to break apart, the shards stabbing their skin.

A croon escaped their mouth as they held it close. _Precious, precious, precious. Tasty, tasty, tasty._ Cradling it gently, they brought it up to their mouth, closing their teeth around it gently.

Once it was safely in their mouth, they closed their jaws, enjoying the feeling of something akin to glass break inside their mouth. Oh. _Oh, it was so good._ It was perfect as it shattered, shards filling their entire existence. They hate feeling this way. _They love feeling this way._

When all of the meat is gone, and they've chewed the bones to get to the bloody marrow inside, Frisk cleans themselves off and takes their powerwasher, spraying every surface that got they got their mother on. The shards of white take some time to vacuum up, but when it is all said and done, they put their mask on - the one that goes over their face to cover their lack of mouth their - and step outside, walking to the flower bed with a bag full of bones.

The neighbors that are outside don't question it - the strange teenager that is shaped no bigger than an eight-year-old with animal-like eyes and a sickly pallor, spreading out white shards through the garden. They don't assume anything. They think their chicken or steak bones. It is actually something of an honor to donate your leftover food bones to Frisk and their mother in hopes of getting one of the family's beautiful flowers or some of their crispy and juicy fruits and vegetables.

Frisk wonders how they taste.

Finishing their job, they wipe the dirt from their hands and stand up, walking back inside and closing the door. With quiet feet that are shaped between digitigrade and plantigrade, they enter their room and begin packing clothes into various bags. Another thing the neighbors won't question. Frisk and their mother often went on trips into the woods, always coming back with a bit of smoked meat for their troubles. It was mostly a time for Frisk to hunt and sate their hunger, if only slightly.

The bags dig into their palms and shoulders. They can't stay here. Not when they ate their mother. Not where the nights are filled with the pangs of nightmares in their soul, upside-down and pale grey to their mother's glittering red. A stark contrast.

It takes over two days to even reach the bottom of Mount Ebbot, and another three to get to the top. There was a tug in their soul, stronger now that their mother was gone.

As they stared into the gaping maw of the mountain, vines sporting what looked like small Rafflesia descending into the pit. The stench of rotting meat pulsed out like a heartbeat, and Frisk felt their stomach tighten, longing filling them. But they were confused. Weren't Rafflesia supposed to grow in rainforests?

A shrug lifted their shoulders. Well, they only knew a few things about the Subsurface, but they placed their foot over the hole and leaned forward, allowing themselves to drop into the abyss, the light shrinking steadily until it was gone.

Now all that was needed was time.


End file.
